


I've Been Dying to Let You Win

by JustJasper



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood, Choking, Crying, Established Relationship, Face Slapping, Injury, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 14:02:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4708610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian wants Iron Bull to be rough with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Dying to Let You Win

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags! This fic involves negotiation of kink, but not every kink featured in the fic is explicitly negotiated. It is all (hopefully) explicitly consensual, though.
> 
> Title is from the song 'Victim' by Trapt.

“ **Licence my roving hands, and let them go. Before, behind, between, above, below.” - John Donne**

The Iron Bull's fingers dig hard through his leathers into the meat of Dorian's thighs as he hoists him against the door. He isn't gentle as he pushes him back, mouthing at his jaw, his mouth, his neck.

“You want it?”

The Bull always asks, and with a surge of warmth that has nothing to do with his arousal, Dorian realises he's becoming used to it.

“I want _you_ ,” he insists, fumbling with the Bull's harness.

The Bull growls, and Dorian can actually feel the sound vibrate in his own chest. The Bull pulls off his unbuckled harness, and he's already working on Dorian's when it hits the floor. Dorian could pop them all open with magic, but it's much more fun to watch the Bull's gaze flick between them, working a long-memorized pattern to get them open.

He lowers Dorian to his feet so he can strip him of the top half of his outfit, fingers gentle across the newly bared flesh.

“Bull,” Dorian says, as he puts his hand over the Bull's and presses it against his chest. “Like we discussed, now, if you'd be so kind?”

The Bull nods. “The word?”

“My watchword is 'katoh'.”

“Good.”

The Bull grabs Dorian hard by the hips and steers him towards the bed.

\---

“ _I want you to be rough with me,” Dorian says. The Bull tips his head, considering him with his lone green eye._

“ _Rough how?”_

“ _Well,” Dorian's tone is light, conversational. “I'd quite like you to slap me around a bit.”_

\---

Dorian bounces when he hits the mattress, but he barely has time to laugh breathlessly before the Bull presses a hand onto his stomach and uses the other to wrench his boots from his feet, then the bottom of his outfit off his legs.

Dorian reaches for him, but the Bull bats his hands away. It's not hard, but it's not something he'd usually do, and it feels like a taste of things to come.

The Bull loses his boots and ugly trousers in a heap, and then he's on Dorian again, thigh pressed up between his legs, mouth claiming. Dorian sighs into it, relishes how sure and strong Bull's hands are against him as they explore him, like he's feeling an old blade and getting used to the balance of it again.

\---

_The Bull looks sceptical._

“ _You don't like being punished.”_

“ _The context wouldn't be punishment. There needn't be any context at all, so to speak. I don't need to pretend to be a 'naughty boy' who needs to be corrected, or the fantasy that you're hurting me because you 'lost control'.”_

\---

The Bull's hands slide up his sides as Dorian grinds onto his knee, pushing his arms up and stretching him out on the bed. The Bull wraps one hand around each wrist and pins him, and Dorian groans. The Bull chuckles.

“You like that?”

“You know I do.”

Dorian doesn't bruise particularly easily, and The Iron Bull seldom leaves marks he doesn't mean to, but now, the way the Bull is squeezing his wrists, the way he barely has room to struggle – and struggle he does – against them, he thinks he will. That makes his cock twitch and pulse out a spurt of precome onto his stomach.

\---

“ _So you want me to hurt you?” The Bull doesn't look concerned, but he does look serious._

“ _I want to feel more of what you could do to me.”_

\---

The Bull passes one wrist to the other so he can hold both in one hand, stretched up above Dorian's head. Dorian arches, his neglected cock throbs, and the Bull slides his hand beside his face so he can press his thumb against Dorian's lips. He resists the very real urge to open his mouth and wrap his tongue around it, instead keeps his lips together defiantly, even as Bull drags his thumb sideways, pulling Dorian's lower lip with it.

“You're so pretty.”

Dorian says nothing. The Bull means it, he knows, but it's a trick all the same, to get him to comply. He huffs a laugh and instead he forces his thumb into Dorian's mouth, fingers tight on his chin as he pushes between his teeth. Dorian doesn't bite down, but he does resist, and his body sings with how little effort it takes the Bull to push his thumb past his teeth.

“So fucking pretty, kadan.”

Dorian groans, and sweeps his tongue around the Bull's encroaching thumb.

\---

“ _I could do you real damage, Dorian.”_

_Dorian nods._

“ _I know that. I don't need the illusion that you've lost control. In fact, the idea of you deliberately being rougher, as part of some mutual arrangement, is much more appealing than any fantasy.”_

\---

The Bull slides his wet thumb down Dorian's chin, into the hollow of his throat. His hand follows, wrapping around his neck. He doesn't squeeze, just holds him, and Dorian can see the Bull is scrutinising him.

Apparently satisfied, he readjusts his hold on Dorian's wrists, squeezing hard and pressing them into the bed as he shifts his body, bringing up his knee until it's actually pressing against Dorian's cock and balls. It isn't comfortable, that heavy weight, and he groans with the mix of pain and stimulation.

The Bull rolls his knee forward, and Dorian would have jerked upright if he could, but as it stands he's pinned at three points. His body spasms, and the Bull squeezes his neck.

“Fuck!” he gasps, because that is _everything_ , and when the Bull times the next press of his knee into his crotch and squeeze of his hand around his neck to happen at once, Dorian's body lights up with sharp, intense sensation.

It feels like the Bull is crushing him, and it _hurts_ , but even beyond the pain he knows more certainly than anything, that the Bull is in absolute control, and will know when to stop, even if Dorian is lost to the sensation.

He whines at the ache in his balls as the Bull rolls his knee, but it catches when the Bull squeezes his neck hard enough to stop him breathing for one, two, three, four, oh fuck, _fuck_ , FUCK—

He gasps for breath and his body spasms, so close to tipping over the edge. He strains his wrists against the Bull's grasp, but even though he struggles as hard as he can, as though he actually wants to get away, the Bull's hold doesn't falter.

\---

“ _So what do you want me to do?”_

“ _You know,_ rough _. Grab me, throw me down, pin me, let me struggle properly. Push me, generally be less careful than you are with me normally.”_

“ _I'm not going to be careless with you, ever,” Bull says._

“ _Of course not. The way you usually are is perfect, Bull. This isn't a criticism of how you treat me. But I'd like to try something a little more physically demanding.”_

\---

When Dorian almost can't bear it any longer, the Bull releases his wrists and his neck. He grabs Dorian hard by the hips and flips him onto his stomach, and he lands hard enough for it to knock the breath out of him.

Dorian groans and tries to adjust to a more comfortable position, but the Bull presses his hand down between his shoulder blades, forcing his chest into the bed and his arse into the air.

“Best ass in the Inquisition.”

The Bull grabs one cheek and squeezes hard, pulling him apart and kneading the generous flesh in his hand. Dorian's cock is hanging hard and leaking below him, and he can't right himself. The Bull has him pinned, and Dorian is not a small or weak man, but he's being held effortlessly.

“I'm going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked in your life.”

Dorian whimpers.

\---

“ _If this isn't about a fantasy, then I’m going to check in if I think things are going too far,” The Bull says, eye narrow with thought._

“ _Yes, I expect you will.”_

“ _And we still use the watchword.”_

“ _Yes. I won't let you hurt me more than I want to be hurt, Bull.”_

“ _Even if you think right away you don't want to do this, that's okay.”_

“ _Yes, yes,” Dorian sighs, voice fond._

\---

Dorian yells as the Bull grabs a handful of his hair – a good handful, close to his scalp – and yanks his head back. He's taken his hand off his back to do it, and Dorian's entire body jerks up with the force. It hurts, but not as much as he thought, not as much as he remembers from the time a bandit got too close and grabbed him by the hair. But then, he'd been wearing gauntlets, and—

The Bull yanks again, hard, and Dorian groans. His cock spits out another string of precome that winds down onto the bed below.

“Is that what you want, Dorian? You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“If you need to use the watchword, say it, kadan.”

“Fuck me, Bull!” he grinds out, and as he tries to use his arms to ease the strain on his head and neck, the Bull releases his ass and smacks his arms out from under him, leaving him held only by his hair. “ _Kaffas_! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

\---

_Bull hasn't looked away from him, the entire conversation. “We don't skimp on oil or prep.”_

“ _No. No, of course.”_

\---

He lets Dorian go, and he drops into a heap on the bed. Dorian groans, head still throbbing where his hair was pulled, and he can feel the bed move as the Bull goes for the oil.

He presses one finger roughly into Dorian, straight in a far as it will go, and Dorian swears and flinches away from the invasion. It hurts a little, his body adjusting to the sudden stretch, but the Bull is liberal with the oil, and the friction makes his cock throb.

He holds Dorian by the hip, hard enough he's sure to leave finger-shaped bruises there, as he presses two slick fingers into him. It's a faster progression than normal, and the Bull is ignoring his prostate entirely, and it's almost overwhelming to adjust so fast.

“This too fast?”

Dorian shakes his head, and the Bull squeezes on his hipbone and makes him yelp.

“It's good, Bull. Three.”

Three has him nearly delirious with the friction and the pleasure. He keens and fucks himself back on them as the Bull twists them around, oil dripping messily down the backs of his thighs.

When the Bull flips him again, his hands press on sore hips, and Dorian whimpers with the pain of his huge fingers pressing there. The Bull's hold slackens at the sound, so Dorian, eyes crinkled and breathing laboured with the pain smiles at him, because it's _good_. After a beat the Bull returns the smile, and pours a generous amount of oil into his hand to slide over the hard, heavy length of himself.

The Bull grabs him behind one knee, exposing his hole. He slides the fat head of his cock against him, and Dorian tries to bear down onto him. The Bull pulls back, then presses forward, then back again.

“Fuck me some time this age, please!”

“Well, since you said please,” the Bull chuckles, and slides several inches of his cock into Dorian without pause. Dorian howls with the stretching and the slide, back arching off the bed.

\---

“ _I want you to slap my face.”_

_Bull gives him a look. “Dorian, have you seen the size of my hands?”_

“ _I'm familiar with the dimensions.”_

“ _Even if I’m careful, you could get hurt.”_

“ _I know. I trust you.”_

\---

The Bull grabs both of his legs, folds him in half, and wastes no time. He starts to fuck him with hard, shallow thrusts, pushing more of his cock into Dorian with each motion. Dorian grabs the bedsheets and moans.

It's not pain, not when the Bull prepared him fast but thorough, but it's rougher than the Bull has ever been with him. When the Bull is fully inside him, he doesn't pause, just fucks him hard and deep.

Dorian whines and groans as his body rocks with the sensation, the Bull's solid form hitting him again and again, his cock long and wide, pounding into him, and it's the hardest fuck of his life. He's distantly aware of being surprised the bed hasn't already given out, even as it knocks against the stone wall.

The Bull releases his legs and plants his hands on either side of his torso, hammering his hips against Dorian's. The pace he sets is _brutal_ , and it has Dorian gasping. He couldn't imagine ever being fucked so hard and it being so good, so overwhelming, leaving him mindless, aching, whining with pleasure.

He doesn't notice the hand at his neck, cradling his face for a moment, but he blinks the Bull into focus and grins at him, lost, gone, laid out on their bed. The Bull slows, puts his weight on his knees, only able to move in deep, shallow thrusts, but it's good, still good.

“I love you so much, kadan.”

The Bull's huge hand cracks hard against Dorian's cheek, sending his head reeling sideways, into the Bull's other hand, cushioning the impact. Dorian gasps and tears spring to his eyes, blurring his vision as his cheek stings painfully. The other hand, the one bracing the other side of his head – to make him safer, he knows somewhere beyond the pain – rubs a thumb gently across his jaw.

Dazed, he lifts a hand to touch his face, but the Bull pushes the hand away.

“You're so good, Dorian.”

The Bull is still fucking him, slow and deep as his face smarts, and he sobs as a wave of relief shudders through him.

\---

“ _And if anything goes wrong?”_

“ _Then we check in,” Dorian says. “I know we can't plan for everything, with what I'm asking. But I still trust you.”_

“ _And I trust you,” the Bull says. “You'll tell me if it gets too much.”_

“ _I promise.”_

\---

“Bull, please, ” Dorian sobs, straining under the Bull's body.

“Another?”

“Yes, please!”

The Bull slaps him again, just as hard as the first time, but this time it's on top of skin that already aches, and Dorian lets out a strangled cry. It hurts, it hurts _immensely_ , but it feels so good to have the Bull's hand on him, the Bull's cock hard inside him, the way his body clenches down on that intrusion with the slap, how that makes the Bull's hips judder forward.

“Bull!”

With the third slap, as well as the stinging pain across his cheek, something sharp lights up across Dorian's mouth and he yells out.

“Shit!”

The Bull goes still.

He's bleeding, Dorian realises. He flicks his tongue out and feels his lip is split open, and oozing messily.

“Fuck, Dorian—”

“Bull, fuck me,” he gasps, because it stings and aches and his cock is throbbing painfully into the equation.

“Your lip.”

“I'm okay, I'm okay,” he babbles, reaching for the Bull. “I promise, it's good, please don't stop!”

The Bull hesitates, and then his mouth is on Dorian's bloody mouth, and his hips are pounding against him again.

\---

“ _I get to look after you afterwards.”_

“ _Yes, obviously.”_

“ _I mean it, Dorian,” Bull says. “You can't say you're fine, you have to let me take care of you. Whatever I think is necessary.”_

“ _Alright.”_

\---

The Bull is growling, a great rumble in his chest as he fucks Dorian harder than he's ever been fucked before in his waking life or his wildest fantasies or his worst nightmares.

They share bloody maelstrom kisses, lips and teeth and tongues all lost in the mess.

“Please,” Dorian sobs, tears streaking their way down his temples. “Please, please!”

The Bull's cock inside him and his belly rubbing on his own erection makes Dorian come, and there he breaks open, a sobbing, shaking mess in the Bull's arms, his body utterly overwhelmed. The Bull follows, his cock throbbing deep inside him, emptying into him.

“I love you,” he whispers, face pressed to the Bull's as his lover bears down, fills him full. “I love you, I love you.”

\---

“ _Okay, Dorian, we can do this. We'll be careful, but we can try it.”_

_Dorian smiles, and he can't find a way to say what it means that this, every question, is so much better than if the Bull had simply said yes right away. “Thank you.”_

\---

Later, when they come back to themselves, the Bull kisses his damp cheek, though the tears have stopped.

“Shit, Dorian, I bust your lip.”

“It's okay,” he says, nuzzling against the Bull's jaw.

“It's not.”

“Hey, that was amazing,” Dorian said, taking the Bull's face into his hands. “We knew something like that might happen.”

“You promised me I could take care of you after.”

“I did,” Dorian sighs, kisses the Bull's lips, then eases back onto the bed. “Do as you like, amatus.”

The Bull pulls out of him slowly, and Dorian sinks into the boneless, tingling aftermath as the Bull wipes his body free of semen and oil. He checks his hole, making sure he hasn't torn, then sets about wiping away the blood that's smeared over his face and neck in the climax of their escapade.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” the Bull says, fingers gentle on his jaw. Dorian complies, and the Bull looks at his teeth, his tongue.

Satisfied, he helps him to sit up on the bed, and gently tips his head from side to side.

“How does your neck feel?”

“Fine.”

“Am I blurry? Can you see me okay, big guy?”

Dorian blinks his lover into focus, and smiles at him.

“Yes, I see you.”

“Good. I think it's just the lip. I didn't hit you right on the third one, I'm sorry.”

“It's alright,” Dorian says. The Bull lifts his hand to Dorian's sore cheek, and lays his palm gently against it. Dorian places his hand on top, and eases into the Bull's hand. “You're so good to me.”

“I think it'll bruise.”

“That's alright,” Dorian coos. “I had a wonderful time.”

The Bull smiles at him, and tips his head forward so he can kiss his brow. Dorian goes, easing into his lover's motion.

“I'm glad, kadan.”

“ **This last night we tear into each other, as if to wound, as if to find the key to everything before morning.” - Michael Ondaatje**


End file.
